


Mortality and Lack Thereof

by inthefog



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Destroy the baby dweet, Just all kinds of dweet, M/M, Multi, Sometimes he has no choice in the matter, Sometimes he's a service top, Sorry Not Sorry, be ready for violence and nasties, i like angst and fluff, ill add more tags as i write more one shots and such, none of these are connected
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24656857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthefog/pseuds/inthefog
Summary: A collection of one shots featuring Dwight. All male pairings. Some of them are relatively shameless smut while the others I might end up expanding on. I dunno.. These are my first works of fanfiction in a long time, and I haven't been playing the game for more than half a year so I'm sorry if I screw anything up. I'm obsessed and trying to dip my feet into the fandom. I did my best to research all characters and have seen all of their content :) Enjoy and please let me know what you think and if I should make more!
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/David King, Dwight Fairfield/Pyramid Head, Dwight Fairfield/Steve Harrington, Dwight Fairfield/a lot
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	Mortality and Lack Thereof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's a dick but Dwight likes it even if it's taken too far. Thanks David for turning our little leader into a hungry whore.

Sometimes Steve could be somewhat of an asshole. Dwight didn't take it personal anymore. Maybe he should have.

Dwight had grown accustomed to the shift in their group dynamic since Steve had joined. Nancy had mostly kept to herself, and Dwight thought she was nice but Steve was the center of attention-- his attention specifically. The younger man enjoyed placing himself in the spotlight of every conversation, basking in the newfound attention of his fellow purgatory-bound peers.

Steve was confident and charismatic, but mostly stupid with a heart of gold. That's how Dwight saw him. Head strong and resilient. Stubborn, too.

All the things that Dwight admired and lacked Steve seemed to make up for with own strengths. 

They played off of each other well... or something like that. At least that's what David had mentioned to them once with a mischievous grin and sharp elbow jab to Dwight's ribs to tease him and make a point. _Why does he have to know me so well? All we ever did was fuck!_

Every now and then the younger guy got hotheaded, blowing Dwight off at the campfire until the next trial inevitably began again. It never lasted long between them, short bursts of white hot intensity that brazenly collided in the mist. 

Instead of Dwight, Steve would throw an arm around David's shoulder or flirt with Nancy. Spreading his light around for everyone but Dwight to touch. He knew all too well the way it made Dwight look away and chew his nails in thought, lost in insecurities and what if's. Remembering what David had offered him when he'd first joined, too. Would he try and do the same with Steve? Reminiscing on David made his legs hot and he crossed his ankles and leaned with his hands clasped tight in between his knees.

David had been a mouthful, and Dwight couldn't forget.

There were urges stronger than those that had driven him into the brawler's arms. Things Dwight couldn't do to himself that he craved. The cravings got stronger the longer he was stuck here. Sometimes he wondered if there was a corruption happening in his soul, or what was left of it.

Steve's fire and energy was ingraining itself into him, so much so that he felt lonely without the familiar warmth of the unpredictable company. He yearned for it, waiting for it's next breath of life into him after each trial without him. Sometimes he welcomed the death, seeking refuge in the cold blackness of swallowing void as it brought them back to one another.

He had never felt that way about David even if they had spent far more time with one another. It had never been emotional, or needy-- just wanton.

This time, amongst the endless cycle of despair, chaos and hope, he got exactly what he wanted.

Dwight side eyed Steve as they worked on a generator together, pushing up his lopsided spectacles. For whatever reason the pair of glasses had been broken before he'd found his way in from out of the fog and into the trial.

"You know you're, like, staring at me," Steve stated to the other man, pausing his handiwork to gesticulate with his hands and stare back.

"What?" Dwight responded, half lost in thought and slowly recalled memories.

"You can't help but stare."

"I'm not staring! I was... thinking."

"So doing both then?" Steve corrected. "It's hard to concentrate on the generator when you're just staring at me, you know. Wait, what happened to your glasses?" Steve added curiously upon closer inspection. He ran his dirty fingernails through his tousled hair to keep it from falling into his vision as he began again.

"Sorry..." There was no answer to the question. Truly he had no idea why things shifted and changed from time to time. All of it made his head hurt to think about. 

"Don't be sorry. I mean, I don't really mind. It's just that you don't _have_ to be so weird around me. I know you better than that by now."

Dwight smiled at that and looked down to his hands at work, feeling the familiar warmth that flooded his cheeks whenever they were alone together. There was a natural ebb and flow between them and it comforted him through the countless torments they had endured together.

Dwight longed to close any gap between them. Their bonds were short. He needed something more meaningful to reel in slowly as time forever passed on. A keepsake of his own.

The generator came roaring to life with a loud pop of light and sound. Steve grabbed Dwight and leered, taking advantage of the glances Dwight had stolen the entire trial.

They could escape, but some moments were better spent scarring than saving.

It didn't take long for them to find the basement, the overwhelming energy and it's natural draw and pull. Steve mirrored that energy. Dwight felt the cool metal of a locker at his back and Steve's breath hot on his collarbone, the pair of hands already pulling off Dwight's bloodied tie. The tentative leader tried not to desperately whimper as their bodies stirred. He centered himself on the task of unbuttoning Steve's jeans instead.

"Don't cream yourself. Not yet, anyway," Steve teased, and Dwight blushed as he hooked his fingers into the loose belt loops to pull the younger man snug against him. Dwight thumbed over the taut v-line of Steve's hips in an affirming way as the heat built between them. Dwight had always been shy about vocalizing but that didn't mean Steve wouldn't try to make him. He loved to make Dwight squirm.

Their lips met and Steve gently gripped the back of Dwight's head, tilting it to the side with a tug as Dwight accommodated his tongue. The pair of cracked glasses tumbled to the ground and broke in half completely.

Dwight pulled away and made space between them to breathe. He slid down against the metal, his knees hitting the floor with a slightly painful thud. He searched for them blindly with fingers fanning around the wooden floor, panic beginning to swell in his chest.

"Steve, help me," Dwight pleaded and a devious expression crept up the younger man's face, knowing Dwight couldn't see.

"Why should I?" Steve hummed, enjoying his position over the other in more ways than one. He bit his bottom lip in anticipation.

Dwight's head snapped back and he stared up, wide eyes slanted once the realization settled.

Steve dropped his jeans and briefs in one movement. He tangled his hand back into Dwight's hair while the other gripped his cock to stroke it at an angle.

"It's not like they're gonna grow legs and run off before I finish," Steve mused about the glasses and Dwight's panic compartmentalized when presented with the opportunity to get Steve off. It never took the younger man all that long. Dwight didn't think he'd mind if it did anyway. There was something mesmerizing to him about the shapes of their bodies as they clashed on and off.

There was a low grinding noise along with a siren somewhere above them. Dwight's adrenaline began rushing, a flutter of emotion overwhelming him. The door to the trial's exit was being opened and it couldn't have been far away. He could hear his heartbeat pounding against his throat as he opened his lips in blatant disregard for the commotion around them and inside of him.

Steve seemed too preoccupied with the soft, warm sensation overtaking him. The sound had drowned itself out and he tightened his grip in the messy brown locks.

"We have to hurry," Dwight muttered after taking Steve's dick out of his mouth to talk.

"So shut up and hurry," Steve groaned and shoved the older man back down onto him. Dwight's jaw fell and he took more of Steve in, trying not to gag when Steve forced himself into the back of his throat. Steve was handling him without much care, working Dwight's head in a rhythm that left the younger man panting with his head tossed back, pieces of bangs sticking to his cheeks.

Mucus began flooding Dwight's nostrils as he struggled to breathe. Snot dripped from his nose and onto his top lip. It melded with his saliva and everything was suddenly messy. His head began spinning from a lack of air after Steve picked up his pace, a gagging sound forcing its way up.

Dwight's hands had been gripping Steve's thighs and they balled into whitened fists. He pushed into the leg muscle, fighting against the hands on his head. The younger man wouldn't budge, bringing his dominant hand to the purse of Dwight's lips and yanking at the corner where they met on one side, opening them just enough to slip a finger inside and gag him further.

There was a sputter and cough and fluid dribbled out as he gasped and groaned for air but nothing made it's way in. The sound was warbled and weak.

A part of him had hoped that had been enough to satisfy, but reality seemed further and further away as his dick strained against his too-tight jeans and his eyes felt heavy as they wavered and rolled. His sneakers bent against the wooden floor made his feet tingle and go numb. Pleasure withered into pain and back into a rush of endorphins. He was getting high off the lack of oxygen.

"What, you can handle that english dude but not me?" The words were drilled from in between grit teeth.

More panic flooded the leader when the words registered and his fists were now hitting against Steve's thighs in futility.

He heard the pop of his lips as Steve grabbed both his cheeks, pulled out and then forced himself right back in. Dwight was literally clawing to get away but felt the flood of chemicals short circuited his brain. His dick painfully twitched against the suffocating denim, straining for release.

"This shit is so fucked up and you're hard!" Steve was taken aback by the willingness of Dwight's depravity.

The wood beneath them began to crack and a faint red glow started to rise up from in between the creaking floorboards.

Dwight's weight leaned heavily into the support behind him and Steve's hands commanded him to keep going, gripping too rough on his jaw. Dwight's cheeks were a maroon color, marred and battered with fingerprints as Steve handled him without consequence.

"Holy shit, Dwight. You really are a greedy slut like David said." The words seemed foreign on Steve's tongue. He'd never treated anyone like this before, and yet he was enjoying it, too.

Dwight couldn't tell if it was the earth below them splitting that was rumbling, or his brain rattling back and forth in his skull. His eyesight, already blurry and blind without his glasses was getting narrower. Soon he had tunnel vision and could vividly see stars even as he closed his eyes.

He felt sick. His legs were now sliding apart, painfully pulling at his hips and dragging him lower. The crunching of glass cut into his jeans and knee. For some reason he pictured David in the mesh of blood red and colorless black on the back of his eyelids. All muscle with a big toothy grin. His laugh and his smell that had always been intoxicating.

Steve bit his own lip before crying out as he came, his toes curling inside his shoes. Maybe the corruption was spreading to them all.

Dwight felt the contents of his stomach projecting itself up his throat as Steve pulled his dick away in time. His senses had totally gone as he couldn't stop himself from puking, retching into the opening that his dead feet had wriggled into and coating his shoes. He coughed so hard he felt his guts twist but nothing was left to come out, just cum and spit and stomach acid that puddled out pathetically from his abused lips. They had turned a shade of purple.

Steve thumbed over the wilted mouth. "David told me you like this kind of shit. You wouldn't, but he did," he mused aloud while buttoning back up. Just then Dwight passed out, falling once more into the swirling depths of death and agony as the ground tore open with tendrils that ripped them from apart and from one another. Their bodies twisted in an unnatural way, breaking bones and snapping them. The spider like legs gored them and carried them away somewhere else, like a neverending dream spiraling in between night terror and the listless in between.


End file.
